﻿Three months ago I was settling back into life in these United States after a wonderful visit to S. Africa. I have already introduced you to The Mustard Seed ministry, here, and here but occasionally people ask, "What did you do when you were there?" Since my thoughts regularly return to that lively house, I thought I’d share a few more words and pictures from the six waaay tooo short days that I hung out with Mama Julia and co.﻿﻿What did I do? I loved the opportunity to stand and talk (or sit and talk!) with Julia. We correspond frequently through facebook, but that is not the same as laughing together over a cup of coffee, or standing quietly, trying to absorb the injustice that is “reality” in the lives of some of these children. So, we talked. A lot. About heavy topics and about silly crazy things. I felt privileged to live in her world for just a little bit, to eat pap and beans, to live right there on the side of the mountain, and to wake up under four inches of blankets on cold, cold mornings. (It was winter there, no heat, tile floors, single pane windows, frost. Brrrr.) Thank you, thank you kind person who donated a household supply of the warmest, softest blankets ever.﻿

﻿Every morning I awoke to the “voice of Africa…” as six or ten children scrambled around hunting everything they said was ready last evening, (like kids everywhere!) Mama J has privately nicknamed one of the children the Voice of Africa because that voice is loud and constant…but that was our little secret chuckle; I won’t post a picture! They rustled around the kitchen eating jelly sandwiches, making cups of tea and leaving the kitchen in a bit of a muddled state. (Like kids everywhere.) ﻿Finally, after a mad scramble they were shined and polished and packed and ready for school.﻿

﻿And then it was my turn to get moving and get busy…after coffee!

One of my jobs for the week was to organize the library. I found a wall of lovely sturdy shelves filled with random stacks of donated books. Coloring books, math skills workbooks, health references, Mammal guides, and Afrikaans texts waited to be turned, sorted, arranged, and re-shelved.

Many times, when helping as a volunteer, one must just pitch in and do what needs to be done. But occasionally, the need at hand and one's gifting seem to be running on parallel tracks, a perfect match. This was one such occasion. This room was an book-loving organizer’s dream job, and it was all mine. ﻿

﻿I spent hours, happily separating books into categories, initially creating a new level of chaos in a room that was also home to three (or five?) boys.

During school hours, I used the beds as my grand central station of sorting. When the boys poured through the door after school and found the mess, their faces were a study in silent amazement. They didn’t know what to think. I promised restoration by bedtime, meaning the beds would be accessible and book free, but, wow, I made a mess in there. I think I spent 6 or 7 hours in that room on Friday, and most of Saturday as well.

There were moments when it was clear that I was sharing space with boys…I found this scenario Sunday afternoon.

But, by the time I left on Tuesday night, the room had become a functional library where kids could find a few reference books to help with homework projects, chapter books for a quiet afternoon’s pleasure, or Bible lesson helps for teaching the village children.﻿

﻿Joshua was pleased to find teaching tools for his tutoring program, and Julia liked being able to access the workbooks on grief and abuse that are needed all too often in the environment of chronic blood diseases, addictions and violence that was “normal” for so many of these kids.﻿

﻿When I was out of the “library,” I helped with homework or watched the kids at play. One evening they put on a little program of singing and dancing and general hilarity. I enjoyed watching the on-lookers as well as the performers!

﻿Twice I read to a group of children, and I wished afterwards I had done it every night! My trusty translator was a sharp young man, age 11, whose storytelling ability kept the tone and cadence of the story flowing from English to Sotho and back. Although English is one of the eleven official languages of South Africa, it is not the first language of any of these kids. While the schools teach English, understanding isn’t always complete. So, Julia suggested this bright boy named Boy (in his language) translate so every child could understand.

Sunday was an unforgettable Mother’s Day. Church happened in the living room, and the singing was unforgettable –child after child led the group in songs that were clear and strong and full of spirit and life. Mama Julia talked about trusting God, no matter what happens, and the children listened attentively. "You can always count on Him, lean on Him." Their eyes spoke volumes…they wanted to believe it was true. When your house has fallen down or your beloved Granny is dying, it's important to know where to turn for unfailing help. These kids are finding The Mustard Seed Ministry and Mama Julia...and Jesus. ﻿

We took a break for a few minutes of lively play (some combination of soccer and basketball) plus laundry and bean stirring, then gathered again for a story and prayer. How they prayed!

﻿﻿Later that afternoon, the rain began to fall more heavily, and I remembered some treasure I'd found in the library. After finishing the book project, I had tackled the cabinets beneath the shelves, and found an amazing cache of..."stuff." (and some junk, but that’s another blog post which may be titled: ﻿What to Donate to an Orphan Ministry, or, Keep Your Broken Crayons and Buy New Stuff.)

The best find: jigsaw puzzles, lots of them. So, when the rain began to pour, jigsaw puzzles became our afternoon obsession…one after another was pulled from the cabinet, assembled and reassembled.

It was a mom’s dream scene, kids sprawled everywhere, working together or alone to put every piece in place. Some of the kids had never “puzzled” before, and it was a joy to teach them how to look for edges or a certain color or piece. My “translator” slapped the pieces in so quickly, no one else had a chance. So, when he had finished and moved on to the next challenge, the other kids simply started over. So much focus and chatter and laughter and learning was happening in that room, spilling onto the floor, wherever there was (or wasn’t) space.﻿

﻿And how they wanted to be noticed! Like kids everywhere, they needed to have someone say,

“Great job.” “You are amazing.” “Look at you.” “You did it.”

And for one rainy afternoon, I got to be that person. I won’t soon forget the voice that said, “Come!! one hundred pieces, finished!! But, only 99…"﻿

﻿The next day, when the children arrived home from school with loaded backpacks and dusty shoes, a radiant face looked at me and said, “Mama Brenda. More puzzles. Pleeeeease.”

That’s when I knew I’d be leaving pieces of my heart at The Mustard Seed ministry.

I had come to deeply love these children who had so little, yet seemed to live with such wholeheartedness.

I was moved by their resilience in the face of terrible trauma, by the way they just kept doing life, entering into activities with gusto and delight.

I was touched by their appreciation for simple joys and their willingness to make do. I heard/saw no complaints about simple food, perhaps because most of them were simply hungry and glad to have something to eat even if it was pap and beans, again, even if it was one jelly sandwich for lunch, again﻿.

﻿﻿I took this picture during our last evening together, an evening I spent holding high the “torch” (aka flashlight) so that the fun would not be diminished just because of load shedding (no electricity for 2 or 3 or 4 hours) which you can read about here: http://loadshedding.eskom.co.za/loadshedding/description_

In fact, I think we had more fun without the electricity, because (like children everywhere) this gang likes to watch too much tv…and that wasn’t an option! Everyone sat close, in the circle of light, and played Old Maid or chess, or put puzzles together…or some combination thereof! The laughter warmed us, and smiles lit the dark places.

And then it was time to go.

There were hugs and a pile of precious notes and cards, and tears, and more hugs. As darkness fell, I was bumping down the rutted road, out of Mabolela village. I remembered a conversation with one of the girls earlie﻿r that afternoon:

﻿ She: So, you are leaving today. Me: Yes, I am.

She: And when are you coming back? ﻿﻿ Me: Well, I don’t know, but I really want to come back.

She:Hmmm, well I am pretty sure that it should be sooner because we are going to miss you﻿.

Yes, dear child, I feel that way myself.

I’m leavin’ on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again…

﻿In a love filled house on the side of a very high mountain, where Smallest One searches for lost puzzle pieces until he finds them, I've left pieces of my heart. And if I'm ever going to find them, I'll have to go back...

Brenda,
The short conversation that we shared at the "Women in Ministry Retreat" about this trip to Africa, makes me appreciate this special blog so very much! Thank you for opening my eyes and heart even more to these precious children!
Thank you, Leona

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I'm finding my way beyond the maze of the "middle" years (if I'm gonna be 100 and something someday...) ​living life as a country woman who is a writer, gardener, wife, mom, nature observer, teacher,and most of all a much loved child of God.